


saving grace

by MarionetteFtHJM



Series: The 1917 Vintage Collection [5]
Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe- Kelly Gang fusion, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bandits & Outlaws, Bathing/Washing, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Strangers to Lovers, Will in a dress for a good portion of the fic, bottom tommy, just a little, mild angst tho, some light murder, this is overall very sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:15:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24398611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarionetteFtHJM/pseuds/MarionetteFtHJM
Summary: Tom's been following the moves of Australia's newest outlaw William Schofield and his gang of bushrangers for months now and he can certainly recognize the downfall of a revolution when he sees one. So he takes it upon himself to extract William from the situation he's created for his gang because it is, after all, only fair to return the favour.(Aka yet another Kelly Gang au)
Relationships: Tom Blake/William Schofield
Series: The 1917 Vintage Collection [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1710985
Comments: 8
Kudos: 51





	saving grace

**Author's Note:**

> HI! i promised this a - idk how far back time is a social construct and society is in shambles at the moment - while ago so here it is. I kind-of combined the second and third fic of the Kelly gang au i wanted to write so i don't think i'll be doing another one but you never know!  
> This is a Kelly Gang au so Will's a little unhinged but he's really just tired and lost okay.  
> Hope you enjoy!

He intercepts the man with the lantern just as he's leaving the building where Schofield and his gang are holding the hostages. He tutts, having expected something like this, and pulls his gun out – aiming it at the runaway.

“Where do you think _you’re_ going, mate?” He cocks the weapon, fully prepared to shoot if he doesn’t like the answer – he knows he won’t.

“I – I – William, he – he let me go! To – um – uh – get, get some – textbooks. I’m a teacher you see and-” The man stutters, hands shaking and messy.

“A right fucking snitch is what you are!” He chuckles as the man pales further under the bright moonlight.

“Please, I – I have to stop the train. They’ll...” The man swallows his words, his throat presumably tight under the threat on his life.

“I know what they’ll do. And I know why it’ll fail. But that’s not the point, is it? So why don’t you take your British-kissing arse back to the gang and sit there patiently.” He motions with the gun but the man doesn’t budge from his stance, arm still gripping the lantern tightly and his shoulders squared.

“I won’t – I won’t stand by and watch-”

“Alright, I guess you won’t.” He shoots before the man can get another word out, in through the face out through the back of the head. “That’s that, then.” He huffs, putting the gun back into the holster and picking up the lantern.

The man hadn’t gotten far, really, just out of the ways of the building where the Schofields and the rest of their merry gang was holed up in. What sort of idiot lets a man like that go? Schofield might be stupider than he’d originally predicted.

Though, that’s not quite true. _Gullible_ would be more like rather than _stupid._ William Schofield is plenty smart – no fool gets this far only on sheer luck. Alright, yes, there is a good amount of luck involved as well but William’s been dodging constables and captains left and right since he was a child. It’s no wonder he’d gotten good at doing it.

But he’s gotten careless. Schofield’s grown complacent in his role of the madman – has started to believe what he’s portraying. And William Schofield is far from mad. He’s clever, brave and reckless but not mad, never mad. No proper madman would have gotten this far either.

He knocks on the door for propriety’s sake but enters without waiting. He gets guns pointed at him immediately by men in dresses and he fights the urge to roll his eyes. Will’s never kept the best company and his younger brother, Danny, never was the best influence. He raises his hands in a showing of peace.

“Who the fuck are yous?” A man with dirty blonde hair to his shoulders donned in a pink dress points a rifle at his chest and he sighs.

“I’m here to talk to Schofield and considering I just stopped the fucking teacher he sent out from ruining this half-cocked plan, I think I deserve an audience with the man.” He bows with flourish as if he’s greeting one of the Queen’s own servants.

“Fucker. _Fine_.” The man huffs and lowers his weapon, motioning for the rest to do the same.

He’s lead to some sort of area separated from the hostages which he pointedly ignores and sat down into a chair in front of a wild-eyed William Schofield, and as magnificent as he’s always looked, he thinks the dress and the black grease over his face rather suit him. He smirks silently and the man across from him tenses.

“Well, what is it?” William looks him over, eyeing his choice of outfit critically while his hands tap idly against the papers on the table.

“The teacher you let go, he was on his way to stop the train before it derails. I shot him before he got far enough.” He says plainly, noticing the way William flinched at the words. As suspected, William Schofield was no cold-blooded murderer, not like he was.

“Who are you, then?” The man leans back in his chair, suspicious.

“Thomas Blake,” He grins at the sharp inhale of breath from Will.

“The-”

“The very same one, mate. Thanks, by the way. I know mom made you the sash and all but I never got to thank you in person. She didn’t like me associating with you lot.” He scoffs, thinking back to a time where his mother had any form of authority over him.

The truth of the matter is that William Schofield had saved him from certain death when he was but a young boy, curious about the world and wide-eyed at the marvel that was life outside the Blake family property. He’d been an idiot but thankfully young William Schofield had been around. And when they’d played together that day, he’d realized just how different his life was to everyone else’s, how privileged he was to have what they had. How well-off the Blakes really were. He’d been looking to Will attending the private lessons his mother had offered Arlene Schofield so he’d been devastated when his only possible friend had never come around again.

Years down the line he’d asked his mother about it but she’d just muttered something about pride and arrogance and he’d let it go.

He understands in a way, with everything he’s heard about the Schofields, pride is the only thing they have left. Pride and, now, a reputation of bushrangers. Fuckin’ _dumb_ if you ask him. But, it had taken a lot for Tom to understand this. It had taken endless wandering and his own stints against the law to make him realize that pride and greed are man’s downfall and always will be. Which is why, when he heard that Schofield was making quite the name for himself, he made his way back home to stop him from making the same mistake twice. Will was better than this. He was whip-fast and smart and cunning enough to orchestrate this, brave enough to inspire men all over and yet if he continues with this stupid scheme, he won’t see the turn of the century.

So he’d come back. And now he has William Schofield’s wide, blue eyes paying attention to him.

“Why are you here?” William muses, crossing his arms over his chest, retreating into himself when faced with an unknown.

“To stop you from doing this,” He watches as Will’s entire body tenses up at the words.

“Alex, Danny, out, now.” The man orders and there are some grumbles before the two who were in the room with them leave and close the door with a slam. “Why would you stop me? You just killed someone to keep the plan alive.”

He smiles, pleased that Will’s still as sharp as a hunting knife. “Because you’ll die if I don’t. Think of it as repaying a debt, yeah?”

“You don’t know that.” Will’s fingers bunch the see-through material of the dress where he’s gripping his own arms.

“I do, mate. I really do.” He relaxes in the chair, splaying his knees wider and throwing one arm over the backrest – the perfect picture of nonchalance for Schofield’s sake. “You may take down a couple of them in the process and I know about the armour but – this is only a bloody battle, Will, this isn’t even the beginning of the war you’re trying to fight.”

“And what do you know about war?” The other sneers, obviously irked at the prospect of someone telling him what’s right and what isn’t.

“I know that this is neither time nor place for it. You started a conversation. You got people talking. You did all that you can but if you die for the cause you’ll never see it through. It’s time to let go of pride and arrogance, Will. It’s time to disappear for a while.” He leans forward then, splaying his palms over the papers on the table. “This is all you need. This and half of these other idiots out there fighting your battle. I can help. I can make you disappear. They’ll blame me for taking you away; your name and legacy won’t be sullied. They’ve all seen me enter here, an unknown. Someone who doesn’t belong. It’s the logical conclusion.”

Will seems taken aback as he gapes at him. “But – Arlene, and Kate and Anne, my daughter-”

“They’ll be better off without you, Will. Kate’s got the constable’s property now, she’s fine. And do you think your girl likes what you do? You think it’s easy for her? This way she’ll have closure and your sprog’ll grow up hearing the tales of the man that sparked a change. And as for Arlene Schofield, well, she’s just too prideful, ‘in she?” He smiles, it’s an easy smile of a man who knows he’s right and it seems to put William at ease as well.

“She’s – she’s a lot.” Will scrubs a hand over his face, all anger and tension leaving him in a huff. The madness dissipates from his eyes and he’s back to looking worn and tired, a little paranoid but still very much there in the head. “Since you’ve been very blunt with me, I’ll be honest with you.” The other collects the papers into a neat stack.

“I’m very fucking tired.” Will admits, voice ragged. “I’m tired and I don’t want to get shot and I’m wearing a fucking dress.”

“Well, you _do_ look very fetching.” He smirks as Will pointedly clears his throat.

“What you’re offering is nigh impossible, Tommy,” Will’s grin is equally as teasing and a low heat starts up in his belly, ready to consume him at a moment’s notice. “I – I still have to look after Danny and I can’t leave Alex.”

“Whose idea was this, Will, really? I heard you’d made good for yourself, started fighting for money. And now you’re – a bushranger, an outlaw.” He grapples desperately for an anchor, not wanting to lose Will now that he’s interested.

“Danny had – and then Arlene’s new husband – ah, Christ.” Will runs a hand through his short-shorn hair and sighs. “None of this was my fucking idea, yeah.”

“I’ll give Danny enough money for him to make himself scarce and take Alex with him. You and I are taking what’s left of the Blake estate and leaving this fucking rock at the end of the world.” He declares, pulling out the roll of bills he’d been sitting on for a while now.

“What – how?” Will’s bewildered but it’s only natural.

“Nobody suspects a rich lad to go around stealing and raiding empty mansions. Besides, I still have the Blake estate in my name. Now that ma’ and da’ are gone and Joe’s fucked off back to England, there’s nothing for me there. I can sell the entire thing in less than three days and we can be on the next boat out.” He grins sharply, watching as hope fills William’s eyes.

“You’re – that sounds completely mental.” William hushes, glancing at the door in suspicion like he’s expecting the police to burst in at any moment.

“And yet it’s completely possible.” He waves the roll of bills in front of the other’s face teasingly. “Get Danny and Alex outside, they’ll listen to you. Tell the men to continue as ordered. Then we’ll leave.”

“I – I feel bad. It feels deceitful to leave them like this.” William looks very close to stomping his foot on the ground in frustration and Tom is a little too endeared for his own good.

“Do you want to live, William? Do you, for the first time in your entire miserable life, want to be free?” He snaps, pushing forward and slamming the other against the wall, breathing the same air as the panting outlaw.

“Nothing in this fuckin’ life is truly free!” The other hisses back, baring his teeth as his muscles strain under Tom’s firm hold. And really, Will is quite impressive despite the delicate swoop of his cheekbones and the sad eyes, he’s strong and wiry and his frame reflects that with sinewy muscles that bulge with tension.

 _Focus,_ he reprimands himself for getting distracted so easily by the proximity.

“No, I don’t suppose it is.” He grins right back. If William wants to play hard to win over then Tommy will play his little game of martyrdom. “Right now, your freedom comes at a cost of abandoning all that you’ve ever known for a chance at a new life. At a cost of trusting a stranger with your secret and accepting help when it’s offered.”

“I don’t trust you.” Will’s hands grip his wrists where Tommy’s palms are pressing into his chest.

“You don’t have to trust me. You just have to believe that I’m telling the truth and that my intentions are pure.” He explains plainly even if it is a bit of a lie. Sure, he wants to save William, save his movement and his family but – he’d be a deceiving bastard if he didn’t admit to himself that some of his motivations stem from this _infatuation_ with the other. Well, he supposes none of that matters if everyone lives in the end after all.

“That’s still a lot you’re asking of me, Blake.” William’s fingers flex against his wrists and the cufflinks of Tom’s shirtsleeves dig into his skin. For a brief moment he wishes to feel the warmth of the other’s palms against his bare wrists.

“I know. But I have no need to lie to you. When the dust settles we’ll find your brother and sister. When the times turn different, we’ll help them out as well.” He promises, allowing his body to relax despite the tension between him and William.

Schofield tips his head back, inhaling sharply and closing his eyes like he can’t help himself and Tom quivers inside at the motion. He ought to release the hold he has on the other, remove himself from such close proximity. He ought to, but what he _wants_ is to close the distance and lick up the expanse of that long, pale throat and leave a _mark._

He steps back as Will’s body starts going lax under his hold. Won’t do them any good if the other melts on the spot. He shoves his hands into his pockets to lessen the temptation of touching the other again.

“All right?” He takes in a deep breath through his nose and fights the urge to shake his limbs out.

“Yeah, alright.” Will mumbles and finally looks down the long line of his nose at him again. His pupils are no longer blown with panic and he finally looks more like a human rather than an animal, Tom’s pretty satisfied with his progress.

“Come on, then.” He grips the money and waits for Will to push into the main room first.

As far as half-baked plans of action go, Tommy’s pretty satisfied with this one.

Danny and Alex take a bit of convincing once they’ve ushered them outside but as soon as Tom starts waving around the wad of bills he has on him, the two give in and split the money before saying goodbye to Will. It’s touching, really; Danny cries because he’s sorry and Will hugs his brother close to his chest and promises to find him again. The taller touches foreheads with Alex, recites some poem Tom doesn’t bother listening to and then hugs the blonde-haired man as well. After that, the two disappear into the woods and into the night. The rest of the Schofield gang is geared up and ready to go and Will sends them on their way before inconspicuously disappearing as well, Tom following closely behind.

“What now?” Will asks once they’ve distanced themselves from the scene of the crime enough.

“We find you some proper clothes, love.” He grins at the other sharply. “Not that I mind.”

“Piss off,” Will mutters in turn, looking away and crossing his arms over his chest as if to protect his modesty.

Tom’s really not sorry about the comments because, well. Because Will does look stunning. He looks like an avenging spirit emerging from the bush, pale skin and dark lace fluttering about his frame. Pale eyes and pink cheeks, a gaze that could pierce any mortal man and render him useless on the spot. And Tommy isn’t a praying man, not by far, but if he were then he’d be certain that Will was heaven-sent. He inhales sharply, once again reminding himself that he’s here to save William Schofield first and foremost and that everything else is either a bonus or irrelevant.

“Horse should be around here,” He shoves his pointer finger and thumb into his mouth and whistles. A couple of moments later, the galloping of his trusty, white steed can be heard and the large beast appears from between the trees. “There she is,” He croons as the horse nudges him with its head. “Will, this is Artemis. Artemis, this is Will, he’ll be joining us to wherever we go next.” It’s a bit silly, perhaps, to speak to one’s horse as if it were a friend but Tommy’s never had many real friends.

“Oh, she’s lovely.” Will coos as well, coming closer to run long fingers through her mane and – oh, he doesn’t know how he hasn’t noticed it before. Will hands are _large_. They’re like the paws of a big beast and they’re attached to elegant forearms that are run through with prominent veins and Tom – Tom needs a moment, _Christ_.

He turns away, cursing himself and his infatuation. He comes around to the side and hefts himself up, settling into the saddle like it’s second nature to him – mostly because it is. He looks down at Will who stares up at him with something shifty in his eyes, almost like he can’t believe that Tom’s really here to save him.

He sighs, “Come on, up you get.” He waits patiently for Will to straddle the saddle behind him. It’s a snug fit but it’ll have to do.

Out in the distance a sound of a train being derailed draws their attention but Tom doesn’t let the sound keep it. Instead, he urges Artemis forward and through the empty wilderness, getting them away from any possible trouble.

* * *

The moment they step foot into the Blake manor, William rounds on him with suspicion clear in his gaze and fists clenched.

“You’re not going to sell all of this. There’s no way. No single man would give this up for a life on the run.” The other accuses and Tom rolls his eyes.

It’s been tricky dodging the constables and the nosey neighbours but thankfully, the way up from the creek is still as empty as ever so Tom had avoided any and all trouble coming into the gated estate. The park surrounding the mansion was rather nice for cover so Tom wasn’t really worried about anything much at the time – maybe about getting some grain for Artemis or finding a buyer for the estate, the usual business.

However, Will’s scrutiny wasn’t even in the realm of possibilities of worry-worthy topics. And yet, here they are.

“Of course I am. I told you I am. So therefore _: I am_.” He nudges the other towards the large wooden step that lead to the second floor from the foyer. The other’s still wearing the lovely dress and in the morning light he’s even better looking than last night.

“Oh? And I’m supposed to trust everything you say?” Will grunts, warily eyeing the walls of the hall they pass thought and all of the portraits hung on them – including one particularly embarrassing one of Tom as a grinning sprog and Joe looking unruly and pouty.

“Hm, it would make things easier if you did but – I am no fool to think you stupid enough to do just that.” He grins at the way the other’s steps falter slightly.

He takes him to what used to be Joe’s room and to his brother’s closet. There are shirts still there that Joe hadn’t brought with him back to London and while Joe’s pants would be too short on Will, he’s certain something of his late father’s should fit since the man had been taller than both Tom and Joe.

He makes a game out of choosing an outfit for William Schofield. He plays around with expensive fabrics and different coat cuts but settles on a blue coat shirt that brings out the others eyes and a cravat in pale green with a floral pattern on it. The gray pants are supposed to be held up by suspenders that Tom will locate in a moment and the vest matches them in colour but the pattern on it is a small net of various other darker grays. The coat is charcoal and cinched at the waist, giving it an elegant flare that will suit the other’s figure nicely, he thinks as he digs it out from the back of Joe’s closet. Well, what he’d really like to do is put Will in another dress to see how the satin material would glide over the other’s frame but that’s not really an option so a flared coat will have to suffice.

“It’s just clothes,” Will complains when it becomes obvious that Tom is taking his sweet time flitting from room to room in search of the perfect item.

“The clothing is the first thing they notice about you, in my experience. The fabrics and how expensive they are. The style and how outdated it is. This is the first impression that they take in as they shake your hand or glance at you on the street. Clothes are important.” They’ll have to cut what’s left of the hair on the back of Will’s neck because it’s frankly offensive and then maybe Tom will put a hat on him to conceal those striking eyes.

“Is that why nobody ever suspects a rich boy?” Will intones teasingly and Tom smiles, turning around to look at him.

The other cuts a striking figure, leaned up against the doorjamb with his arms crossed over his chest and his muscles tensed like he’s preparing to fight Tom. He’s striking sure, but he’s also filthy at the moment and Tom wonders how long it’s been since he’d had a nice hot bath. He drops the coat onto the bed and moves towards Will, stopping only when they’re sharing the same breathing space and the other drops his arms.

He brings a hand up and drags a finger through the grease on the other’s temple, grimacing as it smudges. While the dark grease made the other look more imposing, it was certainly unsanitary and Tom might be a covert outlaw but he’s certainly not a slob.

“Come now, we should get you cleaned up.” He allows himself a drag of a rough palm down William’s arm until his fingers are circling the other’s wrist and tugging in the direction of the nearest lavatory.

“Huh,” Will huffs as they enter the large room. “Are you _sure_ you want to sell this place?”

He laughs a little at that. He understands, of course he does. William had grown up with nothing to his name but a ramshackle house out in the open and hostile lands of Australia. He’d known nothing but poverty and struggle and to see Tom part with his riches like this must be baffling and infuriating.

“We’ll be going to England soon; I do not see why I should keep this place in my name if I do not plan on returning to it. Even as we stand here now, it wasn’t entirely planned, I had no idea of knowing you’d be in a dress and in need of new clothing.” He bites back the grin threatening to overtake his features as Will’s blush emerges under the greasy mess on his face, prominent and oh so _lovely._

“It was Danny’s idea,” William elaborates silently. “Nothing’s scarier to the sane man than a madman in a dress holding a gun.”

“Suppose I should thank him then,” He muttered under his breath as he twisted the taps and sent water down into the large, claw-footed bath.

“Stop that,” Will’s scowl was evident by the tone of his voice and when Tom turned to look, it was plain as day on his face as well. He was bristling again and Tom took only a small amount of pleasure at getting a rise out of him. Pretty flattery was not easily accepted by men like William Schofield. Men like William were too prideful for gentle words but Tom knows that the other will grow accustomed to his vocabulary yet. After all, as lost as William was, there’s no man out there strong enough to resist affection given so freely.

“I am not known for holding my tongue, Will.” He sighs out as if it pains him to admit it, a light ruse to get more blood into the other’s cheeks. “I speak my mind when I see fit and inside my home, I see it fit.”

“If – if I want to leave – can I?” Will asks suddenly, eyes darting around the room as if he were a caged animal.

Tom startles, turning off the taps slowly to prevent the bath from being filled too much. “I – I’m not going to _keep_ you here against your will. I did what I set out to do, you’re alive and presumably half of the constables and officers in the near vicinity are dead. If you want, you can leave. I’d hate for you to go out and get yourself killed but if you want to – then I won’t stop you again.” He doesn’t know what had given the other such an idea but, certainly, he must know that Tom means him no harm.

“Alright, yes, good.” Will mutters to himself almost distractedly and Tom turns to face him fully, one hand coming up to cup the other’s cheek.

“This isn’t a kidnapping, William,” He says softly, voice gentled for the other’s sake. “You can go whenever you wish if you wish.”

“I still don’t understand why,” The other sounds frustrated now, eyes flitting across various points on Tom’s face as if the lines between his eyebrows hold the answers to his questions.

“I’ve been observing your work for quite some time now,” He admits, feeling that it is better to be honest with the other and face the consequences than to deceive him and lose his companionship this early on. “I am very, ah – fascinated, let’s say. You’re quite the fellow, love.” He grins, bashful at his own confession and secretly thrilled at how it makes the flush from the other’s cheeks spread down his neck.

“Oh, um, thank you.” Will’s voice shakes minutely at the compliment. Tommy notes that he’s less annoyed now that he understands that Tom’s affections are genuine rather than mocking.

He pats the other’s cheek lightly. “I don’t expect anything from you, Will. Thank being said, however, take your kit off. Bath time.” He chuckles as the uncertainty melts off the other’s face, once again to be replaced by ire.

“Christ, stop that. You’ll tear the thing to shreds.” He snatches Will’s wrist out of the air as the other attempts to forcibly take the delicate dress off. “What a waste, honestly.” He grumbles, pulling Will closer then spinning him around to undo the little pearly buttons on the back of the dress. The cloth certainly wasn’t meant for someone with shoulders as broad and strong as Will’s. He indulges once again and drags his hands down the other’s skin under the pretence of easing the lace down the other’s arms. He thinks very little of it; he’s always been tactile in nature and spending the better part of the last three years with a horse for company he’s come to rely on soft gesture as a way to calm an upset beast. It’s a gesture of trust and care. 

All of a sudden, Will’s shoulders hitch up and Tom feels a shudder run through the other’s frame almost violently.

“You alright there, Will?” He questions, pressing a finger into a bruise on the other’s shoulder blade almost distractedly.

“Y-yes.” The stutter does nothing to ease Tom’s nerves so he removes his hands off the other’s frame and circles around to investigate the problem.

He places his hands on his hips and tries to meet the other’s eyes. Will, however, refuses to lift his head from where he’s staring intently at the intricate tiles of the lavatory floor. He clicks his tongue in disapproval and nudges the underside of the other’s chin with a knuckle.

“What is it, then?” He assesses the bare skin in front of him and the beauty marks littering the paleness, the grease marring the soft-looking flesh. Will just shakes his head and keeps his eyes somewhere above Tom’s shoulder and – it’s really annoying how much taller the other is than him. “Will,” He asks again without saying the words, voice firm and demanding. They’re wasting time, the water’s getting cold.

But the other just gulps and Tom scoffs at the stony silence. He drags his eyes away from the other’s messy face and down the line of his torso all the way until his eyes stop, widen, and then close briefly in a moment of panic. There’s a very conspicuous bulge tenting the other’s underwear, proud and straining and Tom – well, he has to take a second to breathe. For a moment, he wants to turn on his heel and leave but he knows that if he does anything too rash right now, the other will spook like a wild horse and he’ll never see him again.

“Well,” He clears his throat. “Right. The bath, kit off.” He persists, ignoring the way the other bristles subtly at the command. He steps closer again and Will, curiously, lets him.

“It’s alright, yeah?” He croons in the same tone he’d usually use to calm Artemis down. Palms out in a gesture of trust, he places them against the other’s ribs to feel the rabbiting of the other’s heart. He drags them down, taking what’s left of the clinging dress with them. The garment hits the floor with a quiet rustle of clothing and Tom looks down at it mournfully, he would have loved a couple of more moments of ogling Will in the delicate tangle of lace and mesh.

He squats down, unlacing the other’s heavy boots and waiting for the other to step out of them. Will does so, albeit carefully like he’s unable to move at all. He stands again and turns to the bath, dipping a hand in to check if the water is still warm. It’ll do. He walks over to the cabinet in the corner of the room and rummages until he finds the oils and soaps in a little box there. He hums to himself and when he turns back around, he almost drops the box altogether.

Will’s fully naked now, the flush on his cheeks and chest matching the colour of his hard prick. He gulps, pretends like his stomach isn’t knotted with excitement and holds out a hand for Will to take. The other places one of his wide palms into his own and Tom steadies him as he climbs into the bath.

The water grows darker immediately and Tom fights the grimace that wants to emerge on his face. He puts the supplies onto the floor and takes the pot they use for bathing to help rinse off the worst of Will’s grime and grease. Will splutters a little at first but allows Blake to scrub him down roughly then drain the bath almost all the way before filling it up again. He pours some of the oils in and relishes in the scent of flowers that wafts up from the water.

He takes a sponge and carefully lathers it up with soap, trying hard not to let Will’s intent stare distract him. He starts with the other’s chest and what’s visible of it above the water. He’s thorough, going through the motion without thinking about it too hard. He tries not to think _anything_ too hard as he drags the sponge across the expanse of wet skin until the grease and the dirt are all gone. He moves onto Will’s face next but with a wet cloth instead, trying to avoid irritating the skin as much as possible. He avoids meeting Will’s eyes for as long as he can and when he does, they’re seemingly burning with questions.

“Dunk under,” He mumbles and Will submerges himself. He reaches in, scrubbing off what he’d missed previously and doing a preliminary scrub through the other’s hair so that washing it will be easier. He pulls the other out and Will takes a shuddering breath in.

He observes the other for a moment before he grunts, turning around and standing up. “Wash off what I missed, I need to go get scissors.”

He walks out of the room with more haste than strictly necessary and winces as he looks over himself. While he had lost the black suit jacket, his shirtsleeves were drenched despite being rolled up. And his – well. There’s no denying the fact that he’s painfully aroused. Having Will there He breathes out heavily and goes to the room that used to be his. He digs through the registry until he finds a pair that isn’t rusted. He braces himself for his return but absolutely nothing could have ever prepared him for the sight of Will sitting at the rim of the tub, naked and dripping wet – all of his muscles tensed and his hands gripping the porcelain. He’s still hard.

Tom sends a silent prayer to the heavens.

“I – washed my hair.” Will says, his voice strained with the effort to remain steady. To appear unaffected.

“Good, excellent.” He approaches slowly again, hands where Will can see them in case the other assumes the worst.

He makes quick work of the hair as well. He cuts off the long strands and shortens the uneven sides, making it look less wild. There’s nothing to be done about the bruises under Will’s eyes, and Tom will certainly force him to sleep in a comfy bed for at least three nights, but for now he can only frown at them and run a thumb along the other’s cheekbone. He brushes the top of the other’s hair, runs his fingers along the scalp and enjoys the way that the tension drains from Will’s frame at the motion. Will’s scrubbed his scalp to the point of pain or so it seems because Tom can feel certain spots along his head radiating heat at the abuse. He clicks his tongue in mild irritation again and Will stiffens.

He detaches himself from the other slowly, turning once again to fetch a towel but freezes in his steps when Will’s hand shoots out to catch his wrist, fingers pressing into his pulse point. He feels slightly dazed from the contact – or perhaps from the lack of blood in his brain – when he meets the other’s eye.

“Hm?” He tries to focus, tries to keep his gaze from wandering but Will’s even more stupidly stunning now that he’s squeaky clean and bared for Tom’s eyes only.

“Thank you, for helping.” Will says with a healthy dose of reverence and Tom doesn’t precisely know what has shifted in the other’s mind but _something_ certainly has. He feels the weight of the other’s trust now, feels that Will has decided he was worthy of it. It’s an honour, really.

And maybe Tom would feel like an honourable man if he weren’t thinking about those strong hands attached to parts of him that are not supposed to be mentioned in proper company. If he was not tempted at the moment, to drop to his knees and show just how much Schofield can trust him. Oh how the feeling of _yearning_ was not missed. The _want_ coursing through him even less.

“Of course, Will. I said I would and so I am.” He says through the heaviness of his chest, trying to speak even though arousal is making his throat swell and his tongue thick.

“I’ve never-” Will cuts himself off with a grimace as another attractive blush rises to his cheeks. “Nobody’s ever risked so much for me. Even the men in the gang – nobody was ever there for me specifically. And that’s fine – it’s more than. But, I suppose it’s easy to feel lonely even in a crowd of people.”

“Oh, love.” He coos, bringing a hand up in a, by-now familiar, motion of cupping the other’s cheek. His fingers rub over the heated skin tenderly. “You just needed someone to care, didn’t you?” He watches, intrigued, as Will swallows and nods silently. “You just needed someone to take care of you like you deserve, huh?”

“Please,” Will closes his eyes, head tilting backwards as if waiting for a benediction. As if he’s waiting for Tom to absolve him of his burdens and sins. Tom is no holy man, far from it. But he presses his lips to the other’s forehead in another thrillingly gentle gesture.

“It’s alright. You’re alright. I'm here now. You don’t have to be alone, not anymore.” He promises, quivering with the need to comfort the other in any way he can.

His infatuation, his fascination, his admiration – it’s all boiling inside of him, it’s all culminating in this wild storm of emotions that is directed towards the outlaw. Because William Schofield is a man with a dream, a man willing to do whatever it takes to fulfil that dream – a man willing to die for what he believes is right – and Tom won’t let him perish in his pursuit of the impossible. He’ll protect the rare and somewhat naive innocence that resides inside Will, that fire and passion that burns inside his eyes.

Because, truth be told, Tom’s been obsessed with the idea of saving Will ever since he was a child. Had been frustrated when he couldn’t return the favour for so long. Had been angry when Will was taken away, when he’d disappeared. His obsession had diminished during the years of Will’s absence but the idea of saving Will in turn had stuck with Tom through his life. Unconsciously, perhaps, he’d always been working towards this moment. Towards being someone Will needs even if he doesn’t know it yet. And, well, this here, what is transpiring, is a true test to see if Will is going to accept his help or reject him and continue on his own.

“Where’ve you been, then?” Will mumbles, pitching forward and away from the hands on his jaw only to bury his face in Tom’s stomach. He feels the other inhale heavily and his insides flip at the thought.

“You’re remarkably hard to pin down, mate.” He rumbles pleasantly as Will’s hands come up to hold the back of his thighs. “I had some growing up to do on my own. But, I’m here now. If you’ll have me, that is.”

“Aye,” Will hisses out like it pains him. “Yes, think I’d quite like that.” Will tilts his head back again, his chin digging in just above Tom’s bellybutton. His fingers flex against Tom’s legs and Tom feels his knees wanting to buckle.

“Come on, then.” He steels his nerves and grabs Will’s wrists, imploring him to stand.

He tugs the other behind him all the way back to, what used to be, his room and the other lets him. He doesn’t think about what’s going to happen once they reach the bed.

Well. There’s only two options really.

Either he’s going to make Will have some fucking peaceful sleep or there’s going to be some peaceful fucking, there’s no in-between. Though, he supposes they could cuddle for a bit either way.

“What now?” Will croaks when Tom finally stops and turns to face him. He’s staring at the bed and the colourful covers like they’ll bite him. Tom winces internally, figures that Will hadn’t even thought about actually relieving the tension – of getting rid of the, frankly impressive, stiffness he’s been maintaining for over an hour now.

“It’s your choice, Will. Much like everything else.” He says it slowly, dragging Will’s eyes towards himself as he slowly starts unbuttoning his shirt. “You can either get under the covers and have yourself a good rest.”

Will swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down heavily, “Or?”

 _Got you,_ he smirks. “Or, you can take _me_ to bed and have me instead.” He shrugs out of the silky shirt, letting it drop to the floor.

“May I?” Will hushes out, hands inching towards Tom’s waist and the buttons of his trousers.

“What a proper lad you are,” He gripes easily, pulling the hands until they’re resting against his skin.

“I don’t-” Will shudders, “I don’t deserve-”

“Will,” He cuts the other off. “I cannot absolve you of your wrongdoings. I cannot give you the pardon you seek. I cannot erase your sorrows or your burdens. I can on be the balm on the abrasions of your soul.” Hopefully, the sentence is poetic enough to get through Will’s thick skull.

“Yes, a-alright.” Will swallows thickly and allows Tom to push him onto the bed.

“Come on,” He gently urges Will to lie down onto the covers as he takes off the rest of his clothes. His manner is relaxed but on the inside he’s churning. He slides the suspenders off and unbuttons his shirt enough to tug it over his head and drop it to the ground carelessly. He feels Will’s eyes on him as he takes off his trousers and pants, feels them rove his skin like a physical touch. He straightens up and Will’s finger presses into the scar on his abdomen, eyes questioning and serious.

He chuckles, coming to kneel by the other’s side briefly before deciding to straddle the other’s naked waist. “I got stabbed. Almost died. Took ages to heal proper. But I’m good as new, now.” He reassures the other, cupping his own, smaller, hand over Will’s.

“Did it hurt?” Will asks, a bit nonsensically but Tom can’t fault him being nervous enough to ask stupid questions.

“Yeah, more than anything. But it was worth it.” He leans up to hover above Will’s face.

“How come?” The other’s mouth parts, pupils dilating rapidly.

“Because everything I’ve done in my life has lead me to this point, love.” He purrs, lowering himself slowly until his mouth meets Will’s in a gentle kiss.

Will surges up to meet him beautifully. His mouth falls open and lets Tom in so easily that Tom wonders if Will was ever conflicted or if he was just playing coy the entire time. He groans as Will’s hands settle onto his hips and squeeze heartily. His hands are as strong as they are big and the bruises they are promising him have Tom’s head spinning. Oh, how he wishes they didn’t have to go through the necessary extra steps just for it to feel good for the both of them. He’s love nothing more if he could just lift himself up and drop down onto the other’s hardness and ride him like a prized stallion. He shivers at his own thoughts and leans back to give Will some room to breathe.

“Oh, how lovely you are.” He grins at the red splashes that have spread across the other’s nose and cheeks. The outlaw looks absolutely ravished already and they’ve only barely started.

“Right,” Will mutters, eyes roving over Tom’s form like he’s a starved mutt again. “Sure.”

“Oh, but please believe me, my dear. I could drown in the pools of your eyes and I could fall apart at the tone of your voice. You are the loveliest sight I’ve seen in years.” He reassures, going for playful but failing due to the sudden onslaught of honest emotion that overcomes him and falling somewhere along the line of desperate. Christ, Tom needs to get a grip.

“Tommy,” Will whines, looking away and pushing his face into the pillows. “Do something, please.”

“Mm,” He grins cheekily, liking that Will’s becoming more vocal again. He’ll have the other singing by the end of this. “Relax; I’ll get to you soon, darling.” He reaches over to the bedside table and rummages through the drawer until he finds the long-forgotten slick he’d left behind in there. He makes a victorious sound as his fingers grip the bottle and pull it out. He re-settles above the others waist and this time, lowers himself down enough to feel the heat of Will’s hardness against his back.

“What-” Will seems to swallow his words as Tom pops the bottle open with a resounding sound. He watches Tom’s fingers with increasing muteness as he drizzles some of the liquid onto them. He smiles to himself and hums as he reaches back, ready to begin the process but he’s not expecting Will to let out the whine that he does at the way Tom accidentally nudges his cock with his hand.

“Oh, darling, a little patience, please. I promise it’ll be worth it. I promise.” He shushes the other, leaning forward and placing a kiss on the other’s forehead to calm him. But oh, Will’s already been hard for too long and Tom really needs to get on with it so he scoots forward until he’s safely out of the reach of the other’s prick lest this ends before it even begins. _This_ being a romp in sheets that’ll be soon discarded and forgotten, being something that Tom never thought he’d have.

“Tommy,” Will whines again as Tom’s begins the necessary preparations.

It’s messy work, it’s never comfortable and he’s certainly done it before but it never gets easier. But he does it because he wants to feel Will in him. Wants to feel his hardness, his warmth and length and wants to have those hands all over him burning with passion. He wants to make Will feel good, too. Wants to see him relaxed and loose and lost in lust. He whines as his fingers, two of them now, stretch him. He’ll get through it, he must.

“Oh, one more finger, Will, darling and then I’ll let you in. Let you spread me the rest of the way, give it to me right and proper.” He sounds breathy already and even though his own cock’s begun to soften from the strain of it, it’s perking up again at the thought of Will in him and thrusting up with those powerful legs.

“Christ – you look,” Will swallows his words with a gasp as Tom groans at the sound of his voice. “You’re wonderful. Beautiful, unbelievable. God almighty, I don’t deserve you.” The outlaw’s hands move up from his hips and spread over his ribs, pressing in just lightly.

“Thought we were over this, poppet.” He groans, and decides that three fingers at an awkward angle are enough.

“You get what I give you and today and until further notice, I give you me. I’ll be by your side, Will, I’ll help and I’ll care because I do. And I’ll continue to care until you accept that I do, and then beyond that.” He promises as he scoots back and grips the other’s hardness. “Now hold still.”

“Fuck, _shite-”_ Will hisses as Tom lowers himself onto his prick.

“Oh, mercy,” He throws his head back as the other’s length stretches him open. “Ah,” He barely remembers to breathe as the considerable hardness nudges the best parts inside him.

“ _Tommy,”_ Will whines, fingers leaving serious bruises on his skin now.

“That’s it, a little more.” He settles himself onto the other’s lap fully, holds still and allows himself to adjust with eyes closed. And then he opens them. And then he sees how utterly devastated Will looks under him, how red his cheeks and how bitten his lips are. He looks gorgeous. He looks like a visage, like the most beautiful artwork in Paris.

“Oh, Will,” He coos and leans down to kiss the other, wincing as the movement pushes him off of Will’s prick for a moment. The kiss is messy, it’s open-mouthed and uncoordinated and entirely too sloppy. Tom loves it. Loves how Will’s hands are seemingly unable to settle on a single patch of skin. He feels overwhelmed.

“Up, come on. Use your legs, give it to me.” He instructs, patting the other’s chest then bracing himself with his hands bracketing the other’s head. “Fuck me, Will.”

“Right, alright.” Will responds nonsensically and then his hands finally settle on gripping his ass as he starts thrusting, slowly at first and then a little more forcefully when Tom whines.

He feels it in the tingles running up his spine, in the heat in his belly. He meets the other thrust for thrust and isn’t afraid of letting the other know just how much he likes it. He moans, sometimes it’s Will’s name sometimes it’s a stray curse. He buries his face in the crook of Will’s neck as the other clings to him in turn. His thighs burn and this can’t be the best position for the outlaw either. He makes the smart decision to lean back, pushing Will’s hips to still as he bounces himself up and down the other’s hardness a couple of times.

“Oh, fuck, Tommy, _Tom.”_ Will’s the one to throw his head back this time, exposing the long line of his neck. Tom wants to mark it up, wants everyone to know who Will belongs to, who Will takes to bed every night.

“Flip us, come on, it’ll be better for you.” He drags his short nails down the other’s chest and Will shudders. The other obeys quicker than Tom can comprehend and he finds himself staring, open-mouthed, up at Will’s sweaty and flushed face. “Oh, fucking Hell. You look magnificent.” He hushes out and Will guffaws.

“Me? Oh, you should definitely see yourself. Might do well to do this in front of a mirror once so that you can.” Will grins and Tom whines at the, rather attractive idea.

“Maybe later, fuck.” He chuckles and winds his arms around the other’s neck the same time he throws his legs around the other’s slim waist. “Fuck, now, right. Come on. Please, Will.” He clenches around the other’s girth and Will drops his forehead onto his.

“Yes, yes. Fuck,” Will confirms, sounding breathless as he picks up the pace again.

And it’s somehow better now. He’s filled with Will, surrounded by him, able to focus on all of the details on his face as Will fucks him with relentless strength. He’s afraid to close his eyes lest he miss a singular thing about the other. He is, however, fast approaching the finish line and it’s such a shame, really. He wants to keep this going for an endless amount of time but he knows, realistically, that he can’t. There’s no way he’s going to last much longer.

He shifts his hips a little and on the next thrust Will hits that special spot inside him that makes him see stars. His mouth pops open and his loose tongue moans Will’s name as the other watches him, seemingly fascinated.

“Will, love, harder!” He shouts, loud enough that it drowns out the sound of Will’s hips slamming against his arse. And Will complies, by Gods does Will comply.

It’s over for him as soon as Will’s teeth clamp over the place where his shoulders meet his neck and he feels them leave indentations in his skin. The mix of pain and pleasure, the sounds, the scent of Will and the feeling of him all have his fingers clutching at the other’s shoulders as he comes with a reedy whine.

“Tom,” Will breathes out and Tom clenches around him again.

“Keep going, come on. In me, do it. Please, want to feel you. Want to have you finger me clean later, want to feel it now, though.” He slurs his words a little, not intentionally, but he’s so entirely loose and sensitive that he can’t make his mouth obey.

“Tom!” Will kisses him then and Tom feels him twitch inside of him. It’s still a sloppy and messy meeting of mouths and Will breathes stale air into him but he doesn’t mind, not when he feels the other spend inside him like he’s wanted.

“Oh, love, that’s it.” He clutches at the other as Will collapses onto him. He’s not particularly light but Tom adores the feeling of their skin sticking together. “You did so well, did so good, darling.”

“ _Tommy,”_ Will whines as his prick makes a last valiant twitch.

“Mm, I’ve got you. It’s going to be alright, you know. It’s going to be alright, love.” He runs his clean hand along the other’s shorn hair and Will purrs at the attention.

“We should take another bath,” The outlaw murmurs, already dozing off.

Tom still feels him inside, and he knows that they’ll have to move soon or it’ll be uncomfortable for the both of them, but he’s good for now. He’s content.

“In a couple of minutes, darling, I promise.”

* * *

“Final goodbyes?” He asks as they watch the shores of Australia grow distant and distorted.

“Hm,” Will huffs as he leans against the railing.

“Any regrets?” He nudged the other with his shoulder.

“My sprog, Danny and Kate.” Will sighs and his shoulders slump further.

Tom’s expected this, he has. He knows how important family is to the outlaw and he knows how devastated he is to have to leave them behind but this is about building a better future so that he’ll be able to come back eventually. And he’ll get Will to realize this. He will.

“We’ll come back, love. I promise. Once things are a little different, once it’s safe. We’ll come back and find them.” He breathes out into the early morning air and squashes the tendrils of fear that seem to creep up his spine at the thought of Will just throwing his future into the shitter heedlessly.

“Once things are better?” Will turns towards him with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, once things are better in Australia. Once we have a better grasp on everything. Maybe once we make a gentleman out of you.” He gripes cheekily and it gets him an eye roll out of Will.

“A gentleman, me? That’ll be the day.”

“I’ll make an honest man out of you yet, William Schofield.”

“Good luck with that, love.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tommy taking care of Scho will forever be my fave trope and i will never shut up about it.  
> you can, as alway, find me on tumblr and twitter @ marionettefthjm


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